


Rewind

by NingenShikkaku



Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3289649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NingenShikkaku/pseuds/NingenShikkaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He never wanted you to remember. That timeline has long since lost, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Side A

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed. Female Light Yagami. Most likely OOC.
> 
> Not your cup of tea? Turn around right now.

You wonder if anyone would actually find you.

Your hand—no, your entire body hurts. You marvel on your own burst of strength to get away from that warehouse. You don’t know why, but you think you just want to meet _him_ again. Even for one last time—

_—there he stands, still on that beaten sneakers and loose jeans and white tee, staring with familiar impenetrable look—_

You can feel a smile creeping up, a strange sense of happiness and calm washing over.

_It’s nice to meet you again,_ you want to say, but your voice failed you as your heart chooses the exact time to constrict painfully against your chest and leaves you gasping for breath.

You know your time is near.

Your smile slips away with the thought.

_“Forgive me, Light-kun.”_

Your last view is him extending a pale hand towards you, with a sad, gentle smile playing on his lips.

 

**…**

When you open your eyes, you are sixteen again.

 

**…**

Your hands often tingle with terrible itch to just _write_.

You pay the urge no heed; this current you is still sixteen and completely sane without the power of death underneath your fingers. You can manage it, and for a while, you manage.

But then the levee breaks and when you come to senses you already have a name written on the random piece of paper.

_L. Lawliet_

You start imagining how _he_ would look now, years younger than that initial meeting at To-oh. How Mello and Near and Watari would look in this current, younger timeline. You then go through your drawers, finding an old but still-unused sketchbook, and begin to draw.

You imagine Watari with less crinkle and merry eyes and secretive smiles partially hidden under thick mustache.

You imagine Mello with defiant eyes sit looking outside the window, bright sunlight streaming to his scowling face.

You imagine a bored Near playing a white puzzle, blank except for the small, faint ‘L’ alphabet on the corner.

You imagine L sitting in that familiar upright fetal position, thumb on his lips, stacking a row of sugar blocks into a tower with obsessive precision.

You can feel yourself relaxing with each and every stroke, and before long, you’ve amassed each and every person you met, each and every landscape you came across, in monochromatic world. The neat stack of your sketchbooks increases, and you can see your world unraveling in much different, much brighter way.

And the tingle never comes back.

 

**…**

You are seventeen and many people say that your smile is gentler than ever.

Perhaps it’s because you are capable of seeing beauty of the world you’d once thought so rotten. Or perhaps it’s just because you are a different girl now.

Your family laughs more often than you originally remembered; your sister bubblier than ever, your mother shines brighter, your father is home more often. Your friends has been adding and adding up somehow, drawn by your sketchbooks and newfound tenderness of your smile.

Sometimes you think if this is only a dream. A utopia your broken mind has created, fulfilling your hidden dream of peaceful existence.

You never want it to end.

_(What you don’t see is a black notebook falling from the sky, to the exact same place you’ve found it in another time, another world.)_

 

**…**

You nearly choke on your coffee when you catch a glimpse of article in morning newspaper.

Seemingly healthy people drop dead of supposedly unexplainable heart attack all over the world.

You can only think _that’s impossible I don’t have the Death Note do I?_

You run upstairs to your room, upturning your desk drawers, coming close to destroy your monitor. You can see zero sign of black book or hidden compartment underneath, but you cannot relax still.

You start feeling slightly lightheaded, so you let yourself to collapse on to the bed. Your sight falls to your stack of sketchbooks. You take one; the oldest, most familiar, and bring with you pictures of _him_ and people you’ve come to care about. You curl to yourself with familiar smell of papers and charcoal and let your vision fade to blessed nothingness.

The next you come to, your room is bathed in late afternoon sun and your mother hovers nearby with a damp cloth pressed to your forehead.

Your feverish dreams include _his_ death and your last conversation with _him_ under the rain.

 

**…**

You are eighteen and just starting to attend an art college and everything has descended to chaos.

Your family doesn’t smile as much as they did last year; your sister holes herself in her bedroom, your mother constantly looks tense, your father is almost never home. Your friends chat without looking at each other’s eyes nowadays, afraid that even the slightest offense will send them to the slaughterhouse.

And they say that your smile is often shadowed now.

You loathe admitting it, but Kira case is certainly getting on you. Sometimes you can feel the walls closing in on you, on your world, and you are helpless to stop it.

 

**…**

When Watari come to ‘fetch’ you from the campus all of sudden, somehow you aren’t surprised.

You give the elderly man your smile—many described your smile as so worldly, so knowing. You see a flash of surprise in Watari’s eyes, hidden quickly as it came. Instead, Watari bows and beckons you to enter the car.

You wonder if the HQ building will be there all the same. You wonder if the taskforce will still have same members; you rather like Matsuda and Mogi to be there. And maybe Ukita is still alive this time.

You wonder what exactly makes L to summon you. You have to think of a list of possible excuses, fast. But no matter what, you will not tell a soul about the other, nightmarish world.

Your conviction nearly falls apart when you lock eyes with L.

He is still standing hunched, though the bags under his eyes seem deeper this time around. He is also wearing those same outfits of white tee and baggy jeans, though the beaten sneakers aren’t there as you both are inside a room.

You smile, thoughts scattering around lines of _he’s there_ and _I’m not dreaming_ and _it’s HIM_.

You gaze back steadily to his onyx orbs (still depthless, still obscured, still intrusive) peering up to your own honey-hued eyes.

“I’m Light Yagami. Pleasure to finally meet you, L.”

You offer a hand, and contrary to your expectation, he takes your hand. His grip is firm and warm and you rather like it.

Then he asks if you are Kira. You answer no. Well, not this time, anyway.

“Light-kun’s hand is cold.”

You can’t help the huff of laugh that escapes you after L’s sudden exclamation. “We aren’t here to talk about my hand temperature.”

“Ah, yes. I do believe that we are here to talk about some particular sketches in a particular book of yours.”

He then waves a careless hand to a very familiar sketchbook (which has been missing for a few days, now that you think of it) on a nearby table.

You throw a look to your father’s direction. “So here’s where it went, huh, Dad?”

Nothing ever remains the same, really. Not even your father’s previous conviction on you.

Your father opens his mouth, but stops himself in the last minute. You let out another smile, though you can feel a squeeze on your heart.

“Welcome to the team, Light-kun.”

Your father gapes at L together with the rest of the taskforce. You can only smile, already guessing this turn of event.

“I’ll try not to let you down, L.”

 

**…**

You jolt out from the latest bout of daydreaming about the future that never came to pass more often now.

L never lets you out of his sight, except for the times you have to attend classes and to go home with your father. He is far more lenient toward you than he does others, and while you are flattered, you also feel the unwanted attention.

You can’t help but thinking that you’ve been missing something from the start.

 

**…**

 “…Please focus the investigation around my old high school. Kira is likely a former student there.” You ask L one night, without any preamble.

The taskforce is baffled when they do strike gold on that line of investigation. The firsts of Kira victim are all former students of your high school alma mater, and the deceased are connected because they used to bully one person.

“…Kira is Ryouta Anami.”

You concluded the investigation, feeling empty in the inside. You remember Ryouta; you’ve tried to help him in your time as class representative, tutoring him in your final years of high school. You’ve tried to take him under your wing, but Ryouta always refused. It never did him any good, and instead your efforts made the situation worse for him. In the end, you couldn’t help Ryouta, and now he’s Kira.

You receive varied responses; a pat on the shoulder from your father, a relived and thankful smile from both Ukita and Aizawa, a teary congratulation from Matsuda, and an approving, gentle gaze from Mogi.

But none from L.

So you call for his attention.

“L, we have Kira’s name and address. Let’s bring him in.”

As L gives his wordless approval, you can feel a smile growing on your face.

 

**…**

You meet Ryuk only four days later, and you shudder at the sight. You can’t help but wonder if he remembers you.

You never meant to touch the killer notebook ever again, but a slip of blank page falls down to your hand. You jump away from it, but it’s already too late.

You vehemently refuse to even look at the book for the rest of investigation.

 

**…**

When Ryouta Anami sees you, his eyes lighten up like Christmas lamps.

But the words pouring down from his mouth are like the backside of your nightmares.

“I love you,” Ryouta says. “I want to make this world cleaner for you. I will become the hammer of justice you adore so much. I am justice, so I punish all the sinners. Everything just for you, Yagami-san.”

Ryouta is beaming with pride as he explains his crime, completely unaware of your growing horror.

You feel the temperature drop and your hands are shaking so badly under the table. Are _you_ a killer too ( _again_ ), no matter how unwittingly?

Darkness is creeping closer and closer and you cant breathe and—

_“Light-kun!!”_

 

**…**

There are voices somewhere above your head.

You want to know who’s been talking, but your body won’t budge.

_Forgive me, Light-kun. Please forgive me…_

“Why… are you apologizing, L?” you ask, head barely shifting as you slowly open your eyes.

L, frankly, is messier than usual. Hair grittier and more unkempt, dark circles around his eyes deeper, and there are even stubbles on his chin. And he looks at you as if you are a ghost.

You smile, and L breaks down crying, clinging to you like you’ll fade away otherwise.

You can only wait; though you want to wrap your own arms around him, your limbs still feels laden and weak.

Gradually he calms down, frantic sobbing become quiet sniffles. He draws away but keeping a firm grip on your hand. He makes a strange gesture of closing a fist over his heart, and for a moment you worry if he’s got a heart attack, but when he speaks his voice is strong.

“I have a story to tell you.”


	2. Side B

I already made the choice.

It’s a valid trade; no more, no less. And it will save you.

I will save you, so…

_“…forgive me, Light-kun.”_

 

**```**

The next time I wake up, I’m twenty two again.

 

**```**

My eyes never stray far from you.

It is all too easy to drift away from my cases to watch you; I have all the means in the world to do so. I always watch as you grow up one more time, one more chance.

You take on sketching, to my eternal surprise. I am tempted to steal a glance to those sketches, to steal those monochromatic worlds of your making. But doing so will only cause you to be alarmed, so I do nothing.

Well, for the time being, anyway.

 

**```**

I am now twenty four, and I still watch as your smiles grow gentler and gentler.

Your teachers say that you are a very nice and polite student, and you always take a good care of your friends so they consider you a great leader. You are a class representative, and have just been chosen to fill the vice president seat in Student Council.

You are a compassionate young woman at every angle; you’ve certainly outgrown my expectations.

I wonder what has caused you to change yourself this far.

Then I start longing for that tenderness of your honey orbs to be directed toward myself.

I start longing for you.

That isn’t good. I cannot be even more selfish than I already am.

Because, if I do, _you_ will taste the ashes.

 

**```**

My selfish thought takes this new timeline to worst turn.

Kira resurfaces with vengeance. He’s not only killing criminals, but actually _makes_ innocent people to commit crime before killing them.

Everything is spiraling out of control in no time.

But this Kira isn’t you.

You are still tender and innocent, and I take comfort in that fact.

 

**```**

I am now twenty five, and I feel I can no longer watch your shadowed smile.

Your eyes are still tender, still their warm honey hue, but I can see the phantom inside.

I don’t like it. I want it to go away.

I want so badly to wrap my arms around you.

 

**```**

Soichiro Yagami is a fine, upstanding citizen.

And of course, a concerned father.

I cannot believe my eyes when Soichiro slides a worn bundle he dubs as “Light’s first sketchbook” under my nose. I nearly give out an extremely uncharacteristic grin when I find my charcoal-made doppelganger inside.

And it isn’t only me. Watari is also there. So are Mello and Near and even Matt. Your family and friends too are there, and even the members of Kira taskforce. I am very thankful Misa is missing, though. It would be creepy.

Every stroke is made in careful precision; you are still as perfectionist as ever. But I can also feel your tender affection and love etched to every page. Your loving hands made these beautiful sketches, and I will not lay them to waste.

“Yagami-san, I will need your daughter to be here for questioning.”

Soichiro blows a sigh, not liking the prospect of having his eldest daughter called in for ‘questioning’. Oh, if he knows he doesn’t need to worry about a thing. You are never a suspect in my head. Not since I saw your tenderness. And these sketches are the most solid proof that you are innocent.

I have to wonder, though, how can you still remember me and everyone from a lost future in this new times?

 

**```**

When I finally, _finally_ , meet you face-to-face, I am lost inside the warm depth of your honey gaze.

The tenderness and affection is there, but I never imagined you being so worldly, so knowing. Your smile very nearly sends me running to your embrace; you probably never know your smile has such profound effect.

Your hand is slightly cold as I take it into mine, and thinner than I remember you being. You certainly need some cake.

Then I ask you those obligatory questions whether you are Kira or not, and about your sketchbook.

“So here’s where it went, huh, Dad?”

You seem hurt. Perhaps you think your father has betrayed you with his suspicion. But no, Soichiro is only very concerned. In fact, I think he trusts you as much as I do.

“Welcome to the team, Light-kun.”

I sorely wish to turn around to watch the policemen’s reactions (especially Soichiro) myself; from your face (and Watari’s behind you) it must be hilarious.

And strangely, you don’t seem surprised. Baffled, yes, but not surprised.

“I’ll try not to let you down, L.”

You still have that phantom, but I will see it gone with this current Kira.

 

**```**

I never let you out of my sight for more than a few hours.

I have you tracked in form of Watari going as your chauffeur and Aiber as a foreign guest lecturer. You seem to recognize Aiber, but still you play the fool perfectly. You even have the gall to look amused having him and Watari as your assigned bodyguards.

Once I hold you with the investigation too long on purpose so you will have no choice but stay for the night. You sigh and give me your reprimanding smile when you realize that. But stay you do.

That is when I notice that you sleep poorly at nights.

I often spend my own sleepless nights with watching the city landscape, but that night I feel an odd disquiet in the night air.

So I move to the surveillance cameras, clicking the rooms one by one. I find Matsuda sleeping with his nightstand lamps on, Mogi sleeping in a sitting position, Ukita looking exhausted even in slumber. Aizawa goes home to his family every night, so his room is empty. Soichiro is still awake and reading some case files, if I get it right.

And in the next room, I watch as you jolt out of your sleep with a muffled cry. I watch as you take a glance around with this wild look in your eyes, as if you’ve forgotten where you are. I watch as you calm down gradually, releasing the breath you are holding. I watch as you sink your head between your knees and start crying very softly. If not for the sensitive device, I will never hear you cry.

I never remember you crying in those months you spent chained on my wrist, so why you cry now?

 

**```**

When you announce Kira’s real name and identity, I cannot help the sinking feeling in my stomach.

Somehow I feel that _your_ end is also close, that you will also disappear together with this case. That you will somehow die in the conclusion.

But your smile when I agree to bring Ryouta Anami in is the first almost-real smile I haven’t seen from you for months.

 

**```**

You seem tense as you wait for the taskforce to barge in to Anami’s apartment room. So I wrap my hand around yours in what I hope as a comforting gesture. You turn to me with almost owlish blink that nearly send me laughing.

“It will be all right, Light-kun. Everything will end soon. Your nightmare will end soon.”

A smile slowly blooms on your face, and you squeeze my hand back.

“Okay.”

Well, perhaps everything will end well, after all.

 

**```**

Anami is a nutcase.

I could care less of that blasted Ryuk hovering close with creepy chuckles, (which has Matsuda and Ukita in verge of breakdown, by the way. I will find it amusing if it isn’t for the overall situation) but Anami is a nutcase.

Not that I can’t sympathize with him; I also love you so damn much. And well, I did rewind time just for your sake.

I know how it feels to love you so badly until it hurts. Perhaps that is why I never expected you to kill me the first time around.

I let my guard down because I love you then, and again now.

So when the general consensus has Anami to be put down while he’s still Kira, I agree. He deserves that for what he did to you.

For putting you in that hospital bed with an inch of your life barely hanging on.

 

**```**

In a quiet sterile room, you sleep. There is a window to the side of the room, allowing the sun and a somewhat pleasant view of Tokyo to be seen. But it doesn’t matter to you. You haven’t seen the sun for weeks. Machines are hooked up to you, monitoring your body. The beeps of the machines are the only indication that you are alive. Other than that, your motionless body mimics the dead.

But I will always be there every day, without fail, just for you. Doing what I always do and talk to you. I hope my voice will reach you. With the Kira case closed just merely three months back, I want you awake and well again.

I squeeze your hand slightly, sighing.

“Forgive me, Light-kun. Please, forgive me…”

I never expect a response to that, but…

“Why… are you apologizing, L?” you ask, voice rough with disuse.

Your eyes are open, not entirely alert, but _open_ and showing your honey-hued gaze I love so much.

You’re _awake_.

You smile that little smile of yours, tender and warm and full of forgiveness, and the dam completely breaks inside my heart.

I’m inwardly thankful that you do nothing and speak no clichéd comfort people will usually form in this situation. You keep silent and still (maybe you still can’t move well) and only listen to my frantic cries but you are _there_.

And when I finish crying, you still have that tender smile. I tough it up and resolve myself to tell you the full account of this rewound time.

“I have a story to tell you.”

**Author's Note:**

> There goes my first foray to Death Note. I've had this idea swirling for years after I finished the manga, and now I'm putting it to words.
> 
> Before you ask, Ryouta Anami is NOT an OC. He is a minor character appearing in volume one of the manga.
> 
> Comments are welcome.


End file.
